Uncomfortable
by ceredonia
Summary: A dabble of Nuriko/Tasuki. Set after Tasuki joins up with the group.


Night had fallen a couple of hours earlier, and a thick coat of fog had rolled in over the palace, shrouding it in a sense of mystery. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds, no longer shining its guiding light over the land. He had snuck out earlier, easily dodging the palace guards patrolling the hallways, used to avoiding them. He'd ducked into the spare bedroom, opening and closing the door nearly soundlessly, expecting to find the Emperor, knowing he used the room on occasion for privacy.

Instead he found _him_ lounging against the foot of the bed, his feet propped up on a small table, a small knife between his hands, inspecting the sharpened blade. He could tell it was freshly sharpened from the glint that caught his eye, looking especially menacing.

He'd only been there a couple of days, but they hadn't gotten off on the best foot yet, which made him a little worried.

The other man glanced up, moving his fingers away from the steel of the blade. "Can I help you?"

He shook his head once, curtly, his lavender braid bouncing against his back. "Sorry. Wrong room." He turned to leave, placing one foot in front of the other, listening to the soft rustling of his clothing. His hand was already on the door, sliding it back open.

"Wait."

He cocked his head. "Yeah." It was a statement of curiosity rather than a direct question; he was especially good at playing coy by now.

"You don't…you don't have to leave right away, do you?"

He turned to look back at the young man, noticing the vulnerability in his posture. Nothing about him was immediately threatening, upon further inspection; rather, he looked like a young boy, out of his element, away from the only friends and home he'd ever known and had been accepted. "I guess not."

The door shut behind him firmly and he walked over to the bed, settling down on the floor beside it, on the man's right side. They were now inches away; he'd taken the liberty of sitting close enough to smell the lingering effects of an earlier bath. It was normally stocked with flowery soaps because the Emperor wasn't used to having men stay in the palace, but he'd never minded. They helped with his secret, which wasn't exactly _secret_ anymore, but that was no longer a priority.

He reached out and placed a hand on the young man's right thigh, squeezing it lightly. He felt him tense up immediately, glancing away as a blush matching his hair spread across his cheekbones.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not with _you_." A growled response, as he continued to look at the floor on his left. "I just…It's nothing. I'm just a little…lost around here, you know?"

"And pushing us all away is going to solve that?" He raised an eyebrow.

A rapid shake of his head. "No. I know. I'm bad at friendships and all that stuff."

"Hey, this is all a little new to us too, you know?" He smiled, moving his hand up the man's thigh, mostly in an attempt to comfort. "You've gotta let us in, though."

"Could you stop that?" came the clipped response, his tone rough with familiar emotion. He seemed to have that effect on others, and he knew it. He kept his hand still, pressed against the cloth covering his lower body, no longer guiding his fingers.

"Sorry."

"I mean, uh…" The stammering voice was full of doubt, but with a hint of…hope? "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, uncomfortable is…okay." A grin, a flash of fangs. "Uncomfortable means new experiences, different experiences."

"Yeah, that's an interesting way to look at things."

"I guess _all_ of this is uncomfortable. I should get used to it."

_What was he implying?..._ "Let me know if you need help with anything."

He started to move his hand away, but the man's left hand shot out, no longer holding the knife, wrapping his calloused fingers around his wrist. It had always been thin and dainty, a fact he was proud of, but underneath his fingers, it looked especially delicate.

"Wait." A hint of…what was that in his voice, longing?

"Yeah." His own voice was thick with confusion, with anticipation, of…not wanting to hear the next words out of that mouth unless they were—

"I don't mind."

He blinked, slowly registering the veiled intent. "You don't mind?" he repeated.

The other hand reached up, taking his braid between the fingers, pulling on it with a small amount of pressure. "You heard me."

"Are you sure?" He lowered his eyes, glancing down at his other hand still on the man's thigh.

Instead of responding, the man yanked more firmly on his braid, moving his head towards his own. Their lips met, lightly at first, and he could feel the heat radiating from his body, matching the image he'd had in his mind since the first time he laid eyes on the man seemingly forged from fire itself.

They moved apart, a small gasp escaping one of them, he couldn't tell if it had been his own, filling the inches between their lips. Their foreheads touched, their eyes closed, the hand moving up the length of his braid to grasp the back of his head, gently but firmly.

"Uncomfortable," came the choked words, a hint of a smile behind them.

"Get used to it," he replied, tilting his chin forward to press their lips together once more.


End file.
